When God healed my back and told me that He had my back, I totally understood what He meant. It was more about Him telling me that He cared than about my back beaing healed. God speaks in my language.
And when I took my walk and He granted me raining leaves to remind me that He loves me, I drank in His care and knew that it’s more about a love note from my Daddy than it is about being fall on the calendar. God speaks in my language.
And when I feel squeezed all over and I can hardly breathe and God reminds me that He is the Potter and I am the clay and life is much easier if I let Him mold me, I know that His care reaches down to the nitty gritty of my being, and that He wants me His from head to toe and then some. God speaks in my language.
And when my earthly father died and God walked me to the cemetery to show me that all was well with my soul, all I could do was let Him wrap Himself around me and soothe me from the inside out. God speaks in my language.
And when He invites me to dance with Him and we move as one together, He whispers His love to me and I drink it all in. God speaks in my language.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp
#899 A healed chest
#900 Sugar cookies on Sunday afternoon
Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 Home, SDG, Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing Home, Play Dates with God, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday,Inspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s Story, Into the Word, In and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday,Titus2Tuesdays, Extraordinay, Lessons from Ivy, Denise in Bloom, Sweet Blessings, Faith Filled Friday, Finding Joy, WholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word,